Black Gloves
by Aglio - Saggezza
Summary: Because in the end, all Haru could do for the man whose black-gloved hand had taken the life of so many, was firmly grasp that black-gloved hand when it reached out to her, again and again. 2786, Tsuna x Haru, fluff, rated T for mild gore


**My second fic, already! It's het this time; I wanted to show that, though my favorite type of pairing is and always will be slash, I do write _some_ straight pairing fics occasionally.**

**Pairing: 2786 (Tsuna x Haru)**

**Warnings: gore, violence, and something that I believe can be considered teeth-rotting fluff, only slightly...bloody.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own KHR.**

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><p>A twelve-inch thick brick wall crumbled to dust and shrapnel as a black-gloved hand punched clean through it.<p>

A man screamed and frantically clawed at the black-gloved hand that was burning his face beyond recognition.

Another didn't even have time to make a sound as an arm pierced through his chest, his still-beating heart crushed and reduced to ashes in a black-gloved hand's grasp.

All around Haru, men were dying – no, men were being brutally _murdered_ – and Haru was disgusted and terrified at the bloody scene, but couldn't bring herself to feel bad for the low-ranked Mafia thugs that had kidnapped her directly from her room – _their_ room – in Vongola's Namimori base. They had been very rude to her the whole time she had been in their custody, calling her bad names she didn't care to recall, and even roughing her up a little when her constant upbeat chattering got on their nerves. They had even burned off the ends of her ponytail with a lighter, _just for kicks_, and now they were all black and frizzy, and she'd have to cut them! Even though Haru _knew_ that _he_ liked girls with long hair best!

Still the slaughter continued around her, and the screams, explosions and sounds of flesh hitting-, and sometimes burning- or piercing through flesh, became white noise to her. Her chocolate brown eyes focused solely on the man that was trying so hard to save her, and letting out _his_ frustration and worry on her captors at the same time.

_He_ looked tired. _His_ skin was a pasty pale, and there were dark bags under _his_ fiery orange eyes. Thin lines of distress marred _his_ handsome features; _his _messy auburn hair was oily, as if _he _hadn't had time to wash it in days – it had been three days since Haru had been captured, after all, and her poor fiancé had probably been working himself to death trying to find her – and now partly matted with the blood of _his_ enemies. Bright orange flames were dancing fiercely on _his_ forehead and around _his_ black-gloved hands, as if stoked by a harsh, invisible breeze in the dreary warehouse Haru had been locked into during her stay with her kidnappers.

_His_ long black cloak, much like _his_ ancestor's, somehow remained immaculate as it flapped behind _him_ dramatically, like the dark wings of a shinigami – and that was what _he_ was at the moment, a dark angel raining down his wrath on the men that had dared to hurt the woman _he_ loved (and as always, it made Haru's heart flutter to think that _he_ loved her back). This bloody carnage, it was all for her, so that both she and the man she loved could feel secure again once she was back at home, comforted by the knowledge that this time's enemy had been annihilated, and safe and warm in _his_ deceptively slender arms.

So Haru didn't cringe back when _he_ strode toward her with a proud, almost regal gait, nonchalantly stepping over her captors' corpses – and in her eyes _he_ was a warrior, a dark but sometimes merciful warrior of unparalleled strength. She didn't flinch away when a black-gloved hand, bloodstained and still warm from the flames that had lit it only moments earlier, reached out to tenderly caress her face, no doubt leaving behind a smudge of crimson life-giving liquid and black soot on her bruised cheek.

"Your hair," Tsuna-san said sadly, pained brown eyes staring into her own understanding, accepting ones. His voice was as gentle as his touch, as though one wrong move could make her shatter in a thousand pieces, scattering like sakura petals in the wind.

So to reassure him, Haru leaned into his touch, uncaring of the blood that dripped from the black leather gloves onto her dirty white blouse, and let her dry lips stretch into a small, warm smile. "It's okay, Haru can have it cut."

But Tsuna-san didn't look seem appeased, hints of mad, protective fury lingering in his eyes, so Haru leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on his frowning lips, smiling a bit more when they automatically parted to better fit hers. She pulled back after a few seconds and watched, amused, as a stunned Tsuna-san quickly regained his composure, caramel-colored eyes softening in the face of his bubbly fiancée's usual unpredictable silliness.

Haru grinned back and grabbed onto Tsuna-san's black-gloved hand, suppressing the urge to shiver at the cold, slick texture that met her hands – _blood, blood, it's blood, this man just murdered people in spades right in front of me_ – but it was okay, because it was Tsuna-san's hand, and Tsuna-san was kind and giving and compassionate and loving and gentle and would no doubt cry himself to sleep in Haru's arms later that night, grieving for the men he had killed in his never-ending quest to protect his loved ones, and Tsuna-san would surely break if Haru pushed him away after what he had just done _for her_, only for her.

So Haru brought the black-gloved hand up to her lips and bestowed upon it a loving kiss. Yes, it was the hand of a murderer, but that murderer was the man Haru loved. And Haru would always, always accept everything about Tsuna-san, even the bad things he had done and the ugly feelings he had buried deep inside himself.

And so a month later, when Tsuna-san ran a now clean black-gloved hand through her newly shortened hair and waved goodbye over his shoulder with that same black-gloved hand as he disappeared down the stone steps to Namimori Shrine, two loyal Guardians flanking him as always, she waved back, and prayed that he would return to her safely.

Because in the end, all Haru could do for the man whose black-gloved hand had taken the life of so many, was firmly grasp that black-gloved hand when it reached out to her, again and again.

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><p><strong>The end. <strong>

**God, this is why I love 2786 so much: I mean, Haru fell in love with him even when he was scrawny and girly-looking, and too much of a coward to let his true strength and kindness shine through, and I think she would still love Tsuna even when he later becomes a true Mafia Boss, a criminal,**** a killer. So in my opinion, she's the one who deserves to be with confident, as-hot-as-Primo TYL!Tsuna, not Kyoko. Haru's love is very pure and she is so honest about her feelings, it warms my heart. So much so that I just had to write her with her beloved Tsuna-san :3**

**Well, anyway, this is it for today. I have a mountain of History homework waiting for me T^T **

****I hope you enjoyed my fic. Don't feel obligated to leave a review, but I would appreciate it if you did, preferably with some constructive criticism or positive comment. Flames hurt my feelings.****


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